Blood for Blood
by Paige Hansen
Summary: Keiva Knalvir has worked her way through many struggles to get to where she is now; the leader of the Thieves Guild. But nothing comes without a price. Keiva x Brynjolf *Title may change* Rated M just to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

"Help!" The voice echoed through the Ragged Flagon, but no one seemed to hear. As his eyes focused in the dim light, Brynjolf came to the harsh realization that no one was in sight. He stumbled and struggled to carry the bleeding body in his arms to the entrance of the cistern, losing and forcing himself to regain his balance every few steps.

"Help me, please!" Brynjolf shouted again. As he reached the small wooden crossing to the bar, Dirge emerged from the Ratway Vaults, and stopped dead at what he saw. He immediately opened the door leading to the cistern, and helped Brynjolf ease the girl in his arms to the cold stone floor.

"Gods, what happened, Bryn?" Dirge asked as he helped put the girl down.

"Bandit raid on our way back from Ivarstead," Brynjolf replied, his eyes fixed on the girl. "They surrounded us. We managed to get rid of most of them, but one caught her off guard. Stabbed her when she turned around. I slit the bastard's throat. Please, Dirge... go get help."

It was the first time in a long time that Brynjolf felt the sting of panic in his chest. Looking down at his hands, he saw nothing but red, and he watched helplessly as it seeped into the cuffs of his shirt. The footsteps of another guild member slowed the shaking of his hands. They had never seen him scared, and he'd be damned if he let it show now. But it was harder to hide than he let on. His voice shook tremendously as he shouted for salves and bandages, and his hands trembled like the string of a bow as he reached down to apply pressure to the massive wound before him.

"Blast," he said, his brow furrowing so tight it could have formed wrinkles in a stone. "I can't even find the source."

A blur of a figure moved into his way, the voice coming from it like a distant echo. The only thing he really noticed against the gore he was looking at, was the glint of steel that flashed before him. It pulled him slightly out of his panicked state, and he watched as Vex poured something over the wound, washing away much of the blood.

"There's your source," she said, placing the bottle of Colovian Brandy on the floor next to her. "Apply some pressure, and I'll be back with help."

Brynjolf did as she requested, though the blood oozed through his fingers. He removed the pressure just long enough to pull off his guild jacket, and the shirt he had worn underneath, before flushing the wound again, and bunching the shirt into a ball to use as a compress. His hands shook violently as he tried to keep steady pressure and slow the bleeding.

"I asked you to come back in one piece," he whispered. "Was that too much to ask for?"

A quiet scuffling was heard from behind him, and he peered over his shoulder to see Vex pushing Tonilia toward him, with a spool of thread in her hand.

"I'm not a seamstress," Tonilia argued. Her protests seemed to go unheard and Vex gave her a good shove in Brynjolf's direction. She looked down at the mess lying before them and felt her stomach turn as she knelt, trying to avoid the pool of blood the flowed through the cracks in the floor. "I don't even know if this'll work, Bryn."

"You have to at least try," he pleaded. "I'm not losing another one."

"Awfully attached to this one, aren't you?" She asked, her eyes glued to his hands. She gingerly pried his bloodied fingers and blood soaked shirt away to get a look at the injury. "You've slowed the bleeding. And with the brandy, the wound should be clean enough to close. I'm no physician though."

"Just... do what you can, lass," Brynjolf said as he fell onto his backside. "We can't lose her."

A firm, but gentle arm reached down, and helped him to his feet, though he wouldn't move from where he struggled to remain standing. Vex looked at him with what sympathy she could manage to find within herself, and used whatever strength she had to keep him on his feet. The two watched with the utmost intent as Tonilia flushed the wound one final time before beginning to sew it closed. When she had finished, she used Brynjolf's shirt to wipe her hands dry, and stood looking to him worriedly.

"I've patched her up the best I can," she said nervously. "It's all I can do. Without medicine however..."

"Then we have to find some, and fast," Brynjolf answered. "For now, she needs a bed. Delvin, I want you and Arnskar to move her. Gently. Vex, keep her comfortable. I'll go and see Herluin about a tonic of some sort to keep her going until she's awake."

Brynjolf didn't have to speak more than once. As everyone went about helping their guild master, he turned and left the cistern in search of Herluin. It didn't take long to find the apothecary, but he was proved to be useless, and Brynjolf was on the verge of losing his patience.

"I-I may know of someone who can help, however," he stuttered eagerly. "The young Black-Briar girl... what's her name? Inga... Ingun! Ingun Black-Briar. She's always coming up with new elixirs and -"

"Where do I find her?" Brynjolf demanded.

"Well, if she's not out gathering reagents, she'll probably be at Elgrim's."

By the time Brynjolf had returned to the cistern, Vex was sitting at the foot of a bed near the southern entrance. He had returned alone, but there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes as he approached the bed. Vex looked up at him and forced a smile.

"Any change?" Brynjolf asked, looking past her to the injured girl.

"None. Did you find anything?"

"Maven's daughter is on her way with a concoction of some sort." Brynjolf sat on the edge of the bed and sighed heavily. He smiled faintly at Vex. "Could you excuse me for a moment, please?"

Vex simply nodded and took her leave. Brynjolf watched as she left the cistern, and his eyes lit up as Ingun came into view.

"Is this the woman we spoke of?"

"Aye, lass," Brynjolf answered as he rose to his feet. "This is she. Is there anything you can do?"

Ingun took a look at the girl on the bed. She checked the stitching, and nodded. "This seems to be done well, and I see no sign of an infection."

She smiled and handed a small bottle to Brynjolf.

"What's this, lass?"

"A personal elixir," Ingun answered. "I've never attempted using it on a person before, but I've had nothing but success with it."

"What exactly have you tested this on, then? Trolls?"

"Livestock. Some of them get sick and well... But this has always worked. I see no reason why it wouldn't work on your friend here."

Brynjolf pulled the cork from the bottle and reared his head as his nose scrunched and his eyes narrowed. "By the nine, what is in this? It smells putrid."

"It's a mixture of honeycomb, pine thrush egg and salmon roe," she said. "Doesn't smell the prettiest, but I promise you, it'll work."

Brynjolf nodded doubtfully and poured a small amount of the foul smelling liquid in the injured girl's mouth, bracing her head to allow it to go down her throat. He corked the bottle again and looked at Ingun thankfully before handing her a small pouch of coins and sending her on her way.

"Divines bless you," she said, before turning away and disappearing into the Ragged Flagon.

Brynjolf turned back to the girl on the bed, and sat as gently as he could before taking her hand and looking her over.

"You realize, there are only so many times I can mend your wounds. I'm not always going to be around to do this, lass." He didn't care if she could hear him or not. "I'm not nearly religious, but I swear, if you pull through this, I will thank the divines personally. We need you here, lass. I can't run this place on my own. Gods help me, while you were away with Karliah, I sat here wishing for some kind of help. Thieving is in my nature. Sabotage is in my nature. Being a leader is not. Please, if not for your own sake, come back for mine."

As the hours slowly passed, Brynjolf found it increasingly difficult to keep his eyes open. Vex and Delvin tried numerous times to get him to rest, but he refused. He wanted to be there when she woke up again. He wanted her to know that he hadn't left her side. She was his guild master, his friend. And more importantly, she was the only person he could trust with his life.

"Brynjolf, you need to get some sleep." The familiar voice barely held his attention, but he looked up and smiled at Sapphire while shaking his head. "You know, they say with age comes wisdom, but you're starting to make me wonder."

Brynjolf chuckled quietly. "I'm not leaving her alone. I can't."

"Well then, shall I pull up an extra bed so you don't have to leave your girlfriend?" Sapphire joked. "You're wearing yourself thin, everyone can see it. And right now, everyone needs you. They can't turn to her. You need to be there for the guild, and you can't do that in the condition you're in. Go get some food in your stomach, and at least a few hours of rest, and I'll stay here with her."

"You'd do that?" Brynjolf asked, his brow raised at her curiously. "I didn't think you really cared for her much."

"Well, as little as it has to do with our getting along," Sapphire answered, "She's done a lot for the guild. If nothing else, I owe her for that."

"Aye, well... Thank you. Be sure to wake me if there's any change."

He tossed and turned on the small bed, the straw rustling with his movements. He couldn't help but feel responsible for what had happened; like he could have done something more to save her. As much as he knew that it really wasn't his fault, he felt that he should have done more to protect her.

As his eyes closed and he began drifting into a restless sleep, he began to dream of what had happened. All he could see behind his closed eyes was her body going limp as she crashed to the ground, her horse whinnying in panic, and the blood pouring from her wound.

_Her eyes had turned to watch him cut the bandit who had taken her down, his dagger slicing clean from one ear to the other, so deep that the man's head had nearly been taken off. Brynjolf had rushed to her as the bandit's body fell away from him, and his heart leaped into his throat as he watched her expression change from one of shock to fear. _

_He had managed to ride the rest of the way back to Riften, balancing her lifeless body on his lap, and cringing at each bump and turn in the road. The guards made no fuss when he entered the city, and he was thankful for that. Being stopped and questioned was the last thing he needed, but the city guard tended to keep their distance from members of the Thieves Guild._

_He looked down at her as he made his way through the Ratway, her eyes rolling back in her head as she drifted in and out of consciousness, her body trembling in pain no doubt, and her grip on his jacket loosening as she blacked out._

"_Brynjolf..."_

"Brynjolf!" The voice stirred him from his slumber, and he awoke in a cold sweat. He rolled over on the bed and as his eyes focused on the figure standing next to him, he sat up. Delvin practically yanked him from the bed. "Bryn! She's awake!"


	2. Rules are Meant for Breaking

Brynjolf pulled himself away from Delvin, and staggered toward the bed where she lay. He fell to his knees as he reached her side, and held a firm grip on her hand. Her eyes were barely open, but he could feel her squeeze his hand in response to his touch, and he could have jumped with joy. Instead of making himself look like a fool however, he simply waved everyone away.

"Some privacy," he said, his eyes not looking at either of the guild members standing around. "Please."

When everyone had moved out of sight, he hoisted himself up to sit on the edge of the bed, careful to not cause her anymore pain than she was already in. She turned her head and looked up at him with a weak smile, obviously forcing it through her pain and discomfort. She lifted a hand toward his face, seemingly trying to see if he was really there or just a figment of her imagination. He took her hand gently in his own and leaned forward, helping her to touch his face, and when she felt his skin touch hers, her smile widened.

"My hero," she said, pretending to swoon. Brynjolf laughed quietly and smiled at her, still holding her hand to his face. He could scarcely believe that she was awake. It was easier for him to believe he had died with her, than to believe she was still alive. Even with the proof around him, it seemed surreal.

"What are friends for?" He asked softly, finally setting her hand down at her side. He brushed a few strands of hair out of her eyes, looking at her with eyes full of apology. "I should have done more. It shouldn't have come to this."

"Bryn-"

"Had I been a bit quicker... I never should have left your side," he said regretfully. "You wouldn't be laid up like this."

"Brynjolf, this is not your fault. Bad things happen all the time. I think we should just thank the Divines that it only got this bad."

"Aye, it could have been much worse, I agree. And we cut it pretty close. Still. I... The guild itself has lost so much over the years, and we can't afford to lose the best thing that's crossed our path since Gallus. Not after all you've done for us."

"You're getting sentimental," Keiva said, a hint of humor in her voice. "I didn't know there was such a soft side to you, Brynjolf."

"Aye, well don't go telling the others," he laughed. He pulled himself up to his feet, and gave her a warm smile. "I can't afford to lose what reputation I have, you know."

"Leaving so soon?"

"We need to get some food in your stomach, lass," he answered. "And I'd like to wash this mess off my hands. I'll be back shortly."

Keiva smiled and watched Brynjolf as he walked away. There was something different about him, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Perhaps she was imagining things, but she wasn't sure. After all they had just been through, perhaps it was just relief she was seeing. She eased herself into an awkward sitting position and shifted her pillow so she could rest against it while she waited.

As she lay there, several members of the guild offered their sympathies, none staying for more than a moment or two, and a couple of them offering her free training when she was well enough. She had never felt more at home in the guild than she did at this moment. Even Dirge, who never had a pleasant thing to say to her, came by to see how she was doing.

When she finally had a few minutes to herself, she took the opportunity to look down at the sewn injury in her side. _Lucky girl,_ she thought. It throbbed and pulsed as she touched it lightly, tracing her fingers over the thread laced through her flesh, her abdomen twitching in response. With the size being close to the length of her pinky finger, she was thankful that the bandit's blade didn't make it through to the other side. She looked around for a moment, shivering in the damp cold as a draft came from the entrance nearby, and slowly but surely shifted her way off of the bed and to her feet. The first few steps were difficult, and she had to brace herself against a chest next to the bed. She took long slow breaths, and grabbed a jacket from the next bed over. It belonged to another member of the guild no doubt, and was not fashioned to her size, but it covered her arms, and that was all she cared about.

Baby steps were all she could take, keeping herself somewhat hunched over to avoid pain and the bursting of stitches as she walked. She refused to stay in the bed that was given to her though; bed sores were not on her list of things she'd hoped for. The pain in her side made her dizzy, and in turn made walking more difficult, but she pushed herself through. She was stubborn, that much was clear.

The Thieves Guild was under her command now, though she wasn't entirely sure what that entailed. Across the cistern was the desk she'd remembered seeing Mercer standing over. It was like he'd never left it. Was that what she had to look forward to? Would she be stuck beneath Riften with her nose in a ledger? The idea worried her, and she did her best to shake it off as she drew nearer to the desk.

When she approached, she leaned forward on the desk, turning the ledger toward her so she could read it, and flipped through the pages. The differences between Mercer's time running the guild, and Brynjolf's time simply holding things together, were blatantly clear. Brynjolf had scratched out the pages from Mercer's time as the guild master, but Keiva was still able to make things out fairly easily.

Mercer's entries had all seemed to show an increase in productivity and revenue within the guild, though over the several months before Keiva came along, a slow and very moderate decline became apparent. With the rate at which Mercer had been cleaning out the vault, the ledger made absolutely no sense. He was writing in numbers that didn't add up, seemingly trying to make up for the losses that he brought upon the guild.

However, with a fresh start since Mercer's death, things seemed to be improving, and at a much faster rate than Keiva would have expected. At this point, she was beginning to wonder if luck had anything to do with it at all, or if it was Mercer's treachery from the get go.

An unexpected hand on her shoulder made her jump, a shriek catching in her throat as she froze in place. She turned with the gentle tug that followed, to see Brynjolf looking at her with a disappointed expression.

"Gods, you scared me half to death," she said. She grabbed the ledger from the desk and held it to her side, making Brynjolf look at her with a face full of questions.

"You should be resting, lass," he said, reaching for the book. "You can indulge yourself in guild matters when you're feeling better."

"I'm feeling well enough now," Keiva argued quietly. "Besides, I just want to look. I'm not nearly ready to start barking orders at the others and managing this. Not on my own at least."

Brynjolf allowed her to hold onto the book, though he warned her to keep it with her. He didn't want anymore problems to arise, and she agreed. He helped her back to her bed, but before sitting down, she protested.

"Is there nowhere I can look at this in private?"

"You really are determined to be on your feet, aren't you?" Brynjolf shook his head, and grabbed the food that he had brought, before leading her elsewhere. "There's a small room just outside the door to this area. I'm pretty sure Vex and Tonilia use it, but I'm sure whoever sleeps in there wouldn't mind vacating for a while."

She carefully pulled herself away from Brynjolf, stressing the point that she could walk the rest of the way on her own, and giving him a free hand to carry what he had. He insisted on opening the door leading out of the cistern however, refusing to let her do anything that might reopen her cut.

The room was cozy enough, and furnished just enough to keep her comfortable. Two beds were positioned to the right of the entrance, each on opposite sides of the room, and to the left sat a small round table, a chest and two dressers. For the young huntress, this was more than enough to make her happy. Brynjolf set the tray of food he had carried, down on the table and helped Keiva take a seat before sitting across from her.

Her eyes settled immediately on the food in front of her, and her stomach growled. The tray held an assortment of dumplings, still warm from the oven, a bowl of venison stew for each of them, and a plate of leeks and juniper berries. Next to the food sat a stout bottle of Alto wine, and two short mugs that looked to be made from mammoth tusks. Aside from the food that was more than appealing to her senses, Keiva noticed a small wooden bowl with what looked like tree bark inside of it.

"What is that?" She asked, feeling a bit like a child as she pointed it out.

"That," Brynjolf said, "Is for you. I bought it from a Khajiit trader some time ago, but never really found a use for it. They call it willowbark. It's used to relieve pain. I figured you might find it useful."

"I appreciate that, Brynjolf," she said, smiling in thanks. She put the ledger on the table between the two of them as Brynjolf served them each a bit of wine, and opened it up to the last page that Mercer had used. She grabbed a few berries from the tray and looked up at him while pointing with her free hand at the page. "I can't help but wonder why all of Mercer's pages have been crossed out like this."

"It should be simple enough to understand, really. You're going to be running things down here soon enough, and this ledger will be yours to carry on, just as it was mine while you'd been away. I want to think of this as a new beginning for the guild, and keeping Mercer's records isn't going to help us."

"Well," Keiva answered, still chewing on food. "One would think that past mistakes would lighten the path to a better future for the guild, no? Besides, I'm quite interested in seeing just how far back this has gone."

"And get yourself into trouble in the process," Brynjolf warned. He slipped the book out from under her hand and closed it. "Mercer no doubt had more contacts than we realize. People I would rather not mess with, especially so soon after we dealt with him. The pot is already stirred, lass, and with you in your condition, we can't afford to be making tidal waves out of ripples."

"So then I'm to sit here and twiddle my thumbs, is that it?"

"For now, at least," Brynjolf said, rising from the table and stepping up to her. He could see the disappointment written all over her face, but he had to hold his ground. "Listen. I understand your curiosity. Everyone else in the guild, including myself want to know just what else went on, and surely ending Mercer's life wasn't the end of it. But right now, we have other issues to focus on. I'm sorry."

He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, before turning and walking out of the room, leaving Keiva with a mind full of questions. Just what kind of trouble was she going to get herself into? And who did Mercer have dealings with outside the guild? She slouched in the chair, popping another berry into her mouth. Despite Brynjolf's warnings, this was something she simply wouldn't leave alone, no matter the cost.


	3. Mischief Maker

Several days of lying in wait for her wound to heal had made Keiva restless, and eager to get out of the Flagon. She awoke and looked to the other occupied bed in the room where Tonilia slept soundly. Surely it was before dawn; the perfect time for a getaway. She felt little pain as she crept out of bed, and thanked the willowbark that Brynjolf had given her days before. _Brynjolf... _She knew that he was not going to approve of what she was about to do, but she was as determined in doing it as he was in trying to hold her off. Like everyone else, her chances of him still sleeping were great. The past few days of taking care of her and the guild had no doubt fatigued him, and she was ready to take advantage of his resting period.

Thanks to Tonilia, a new guild jacket had been fashioned for her, and she slipped it on. She grabbed a small satchel and packed a few crusts of bread, then quietly pulled her daggers from the chest nearby. Confirming with herself that she was ready, she sneaked away and into the tavern. She had made it across the old wooden crossing when a deep voice caught her off guard and she froze.

"Goin' somewhere?"

Keiva turned around to see Dirge standing tall and intimidating with his arms crossed and his brow raised, no doubt suspiciously.

"You're up bright and early, aren't you?" She asked him, returning the same stare he gave her. "If it's alright with you, I'm going outside. The stale air in here might be good enough for you, but I need fresh air in my lungs."

"I've got my eye on you," Dirge warned.

Keiva opened her mouth to respond, but Dirge had already turned and began walking away. She shook her head and continued to the exit, breathing a sigh of relief. Apparently she was a much better liar than she thought, though she was now concerned that word would get back to Brynjolf. She felt bad about being so secretive, but had he known just what she was up to, there was no way in Oblivion that he would have allowed her to go. She took a deep breath as she opened the door to the Ratway, and as soon as it closed behind her, she took off into a sprint.

()

Brynjolf awoke as he did most days; lazily and unwilling to leave his bed. As was his usual routine, he dressed himself and ran an old wire brush through his hair, removing tangles that had formed while he slept. When he was satisfied, he left the cistern and went into the tavern to get some food.

"Since when d'you eat first thing, Brynjolf?" Asked Delvin, who was stuffing his mouth with bread.

"It's not for him, idiot," Sapphire answered, emerging from a dark corner. "It's for _her._"

"Well... she don't need food this morning," Dirge called from his usual spot. His response made Brynjolf stop and turn with a frown. He shook his head. "Didn't tell ya, did she? She left."

The rest of the members in the tavern turned their attention to Brynjolf who looked like he couldn't decide whether he was angry or confused. He stepped away from the bar and walked to Dirge, his emerald green eyes changing color with his mood.

"What do you mean she left?" He asked, trying to keep his voice down.

"Told me she was going to get some air," Dirge explained. "Had a bag of food rations and her daggers. Took off through the Ratway."

"Something tells me she's out for more than just a stroll," Brynjolf said quietly. "Keep an eye out. If she comes back, keep her here."

"Any means necessary?"

"Don't hurt her."

With a hand on the pommel of his sword, he charged through the door to the Ratway, letting the door slam behind him. He weaved through quickly, stumbling once or twice on a loose stone in the floor, and tried to calm himself down as he exited into the city. The last thing he needed right now was to draw unwanted attention to himself.

He made his way up the set of stairs by the orphanage, shivering in the cool morning air that made its way through every opening it could find in his clothes. It didn't take long for the chill to leave him as his frustration and the angry fire that was building inside him took over. He paced the cobblestone streets for what felt like forever, trying to figure out where she might have gone. Then it hit him. What if she'd actually left? He didn't want to believe that, but the second the thought entered his mind, his heart beat furiously in panic. Trying to convince himself that he was wrong, he made his way to the city's main entrance, and headed to the stables.

()

She had rooted through half of the chests and cabinets in the abandoned house, and found nothing. It was beginning to frustrate her to no end, and she cursed her stubbornness. She knew Mercer wasn't stupid, but she was certain that he had left something behind. _No one leaves the scene of a crime without a clue or two,_ she thought. _So just where did you slip up, Mercer?_

There were no bookshelves to root through. It was obvious that Mercer wasn't much of a reader. Keiva had already gone through the few books that she'd found lying around, half expecting a scrap or two of paper to fall out, but there was nothing. Chests were left empty save for a few coins and clothes in some. Even the desks and cabinets had been cleaned out when Mercer left town.

She moved down to the cellar, and began searching through the shelves of half rotten food. The smell was enough to make anyone vomit, and Keiva did her best to refrain, holding a hand over her nose as she dug around. There was a creak in the floor above her, and she stopped, silencing herself for a moment as she listened. When she had convinced herself that she was being paranoid, she went back to her search. But when the same sound happened again, only on the stairs leading to her location, she spun around, an unsheathed dagger pointing at the intruder.

"I'd put that away if I were you," a tired Brynjolf said. "I'm not here to kill you, lass."

Keiva put her dagger back in place and looked up at him with a smirk. "For some reason I though it'd take you longer to find me."

"Why am I not surprised that you find this amusing?" He mumbled. "Come on. We're leaving."

"Says who?" Keiva folded her arms across her chest and rested her weight on one hip. "I'm not done here."

"I say you are. I thought I'd made it clear? This is going to cause nothing but problems. Not just for you, lass, but for all of us. Do you not understand that?"

"I really don't understand what you're so worried about," she said. She made a move to push past him, but he blocked her path. "Brynjolf... move. Please."

"Not until you agree to come back. Without a fight. We can talk about this, and if you're really so adamant in finding... whatever it is you're looking for, we can figure it out. Together."

She placed a hand on either of his shoulders, gently guiding him aside, and headed up the stairs. "I'll go back. When I'm done here."

Brynjolf sighed and rubbed his eyes. He couldn't believe just how hard she was making this for him. For a second, he kicked himself for ever approaching her in the marketplace, but the thought faded quickly as he looked back on everything she had helped him do over the past little while.

"Alright," he said, as he walked into the main room. Keiva peered from the doorway of Mercer's study and cocked her head like a confused puppy. "Have your fun."

He leaned against the wall, and watched her from a distance. She was thorough, he had to admit. Every shelf, barrel and box was opened, and left as neatly as she had found it originally. He was impressed. He frowned for a second when he saw her turn and stop suddenly, as though she had found something.

"Milk, goat cheese, turnips, caut... Who adds cauterizing agents to their _grocery_ list?"

Brynjolf laughed. "What?"

"Nothing."

He shook his head and laughed to himself. If a grocery list was her "big find", he was okay with that. It wasn't until she laughed loudly that his heart sank.

"Gotcha!"

"Another shopping list?"

"No," Keiva answered. She emerged from the room grinning from ear to ear. "A name."

"By the Nine," Brynjolf groaned.

"To the owner of Riftweald Manor," she began. "Looks like he hired this person anonymously."

"Sounds like Mercer."

"Conditions of secrecy... generous compensation... Here. Both the balcony ramp and the floor mechanism were interesting projects, and I hope you'll find them functioning to your surprisingly specific specifications..."

"And the name?"

"Ehm... Oh. Kilthinius Dandoril." Keiva looked up from the letter to a pondering Brynjolf. "Sound familiar?"

"I'd be lying if I said it didn't. He's done some minor work on behalf of the guild."

"Explains why Mercer asked for his assistance then."

"Aye."

"So what's our next step?"

Brynjolf crossed his arms and shook his head with a sigh. "I knew this wouldn't satisfy you. Why don't you join me for something to eat, and we'll discuss it then?"

"Breakfast, dinner, and now lunch?" Keiva said with a grin. "Keep this up, and you're going to have people talking."

Brynjolf sighed again, only this time heavier, and took Keiva by the arm and led her out of the estate as she tucked the note in her small satchel.


End file.
